Tortured Dreams
by flufflybunny
Summary: A collection of dreams of our three main baddies: Galby, Morzan, and Murtagh, chronicling their inner conflict and turmoil. With a lot of artistic license.
1. Prelude

Hi. Um...

This fic started from a friend (thanks JellyJay--who's also my beta) asking me to write her a dream sequence. I did, she liked it, and told me to write some about Murtagh. I decided to extend this to the three 'generations' if you will, of Murtagh's 'family'.

Murtagh, Morzan, and Galbatorix (who, it can be said, was like a father to all the Forsworn, but Morzan especially) are all pretty screwed-up people. So whatdoes evil (well, not necessarily, but just for the sake of the intro) dream?

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Disclaimer: Ummm... I don't own anything. Deal with it.

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_Tortured Dreams_

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Introduction:

Inside the tortured mind of the First Unsworn (1)many things could be found, if you cared to look, that is. Not that many could be—Murtagh, Son of Morzan, was considered the worst kind of being on both sides of the war.

The Varden and the Empire both considered him a traitor. The only real difference was that no one in the Empire was going to kill him.

Inside the night-bound castle-citadel, Murtagh slept, curled up against his dragon's sleek hide.

Many would say that Murtagh could not dream, that he was as impure as his master. However, the young man did dream, and many of his dreams were unexpected…

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The First of the Forsworn was not a man many understood. He was, in fact, about as well understood as his almost-father, the king of Alagaësia. 

Those who had met him had been awed by the sheer turmoil the man radiated, the inner conflict that was fairly obvious on his face. His dragon's emerald beauty had been a direct opposite to his mutilated features, the scars of his betrayal all too visible on the once-handsome face.

The deep jade eyes, and the deep pain reflected in them, caused almost anyone who saw him to flinch away. Perhaps this was the reason he bore illusions most of the time, to hide the scarred appearance.

Perhaps this was the reason he drank, to drown the pain that had come from his seduction to the dark side…

Perhaps this was the reason that his dreams were filled with loss and loneliness, and occasionally a glimpse of love…

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The King of Alagaësia bore a heavy crown, forged of pain and death. His heart (and, yes, he did have one, despite popular rumour) beat agony for the loss of his first dragon, and his soul was torn asunder regularly. 

The King was iron-controlled, and only two people had ever seen through his steel façade—his first dragon, whose name it hurt to remember, and his almost-son, his heir, Morzan.

Both had seen through the various masks he'd built—Fairth, his beautiful dragon, had seen through the cheerful jester-mask to see the half-broken young orphan inside, and Morzan had seen past the fury and blind vengeance—insanity, almost—to the glimpse of what-might-have-been.

Both gone now, dead because of him.

This hurt Galbatorix more than he cared to admit.

Maybe this explained his dreams of peace…

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(1) I used the term Unsworn to describe Murtagh's post--he's not a Forsworn, because they broke their previous oaths, and this one just came to me (plus it's the name of my alter-ego of Unwilling and Unsworn)

So...(blinks) maybe you could leave a review, letting me know exactly how OOC I am here?


	2. Overture

Hi. So...umm...sorry I took a while? I've had this sitting on my harddrive for so long it isn't funny, and I finally got off my arse and posted it. So, if you flame me, I'm going to be pissed. But MFL will be happy. Because she is sadistic. I still have marks from her Nails Of DOOM. (MFL: Oh, yeah! I rock! I do not sound like Fuuma! Chibi Kamui-kun is KAWAII!)

Sorry about that.

Also, the first person who can guess where my new chappy titles come from gets a cookie, and I'll tell you in my next update (er... which will be soon!)

(MFL: I know what it is! It's--) Shut up.

Anyway, on with the story... (er...)

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_Unsworn:_

A dark-skinned girl stands in front of me, beckoning to me. _Come, _she is saying. And I want to, so, so much. But I can't—my body is bound by ropes, and I can't move.

_Nasuada…_

I stand there, watching her, straining futilely at the bindings.

'Murtagh,' she calls, softly, lightly. 'Come on!'

She seems more carefree than I've ever seen her…For some strange reason she's holding flowers. Daisies. (A/N: Do they even have daisies in Alagaesia?) Not something the _real _Nasuada would ever do…

Oh well. It's a dream, right? So I should be able to…I focus, using the formidable power of my mind to try and free myself from the bindings. Nothing happens. I swear in several different languages (see, there was a reason behind the tutoring…), and "Nasuada" grins at me.

What is wrong with me? Nasuada would never do that! Would she...? Despite our mutual fascination, I don't know her all that well…

She waves, completely unfazed by the fact that I'm not moving anywhere near her. I smile, straining once more, and am matched.

Suddenly her smile turns to fear, and I remember why I hate dreaming.

Eragon, my "brother" in arms, is behind her. He bears a sinister expression so unlike anything I've ever seen on him in real life that it's not hard to remember this is a dream. Unfortunately, this doesn't stop me getting scared out of my brain.

He's also got a large sword. I stare at it for a moment, in shock, and then my frozen mind registers what will most likely happen in this dream.

I try and close my eyes, which have frozen open for, I assume, the duration of my nightly torture session. I have yet to ascertain whether this is the King's doing or some product of my insanely fucked-up mind.

I braced myself for what I knew was coming…

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Forsworn: _

I stood before a rose, beautiful in its glory. It stood in a crystal vase, glowing softly. My eyes glowed too, matching the twin leaves below the blossom.

The rose wilted. Right before my eyes, the petals began to drift and fall…

An emerald revolved slowly before me, cocooned in velvety darkness. It opened, a little like a rose opening. A ruby was at its heart. I winced at the memory.

And almost laughed. The mighty Morzan, amoral to a fault, wincing? Even if this was a dream, if anyone saw me here (excepting Galbatorix, of course) my reputation would be shattered. Not that that was a bad thing...

The ruby glimmered, as if to remind me of its presence, and I turned my attention back to it. Hello, Andlat.

It _shimmered_, and became a mirror...

_

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Forsaken: _

Wind used to blow here, on this desolate plain that marks his soul. It doesn't anymore.

Galbatorix's black cape is flowing behind him; he's never understood the strange outfits he wears in dreams. Tonight it's a black leather ensemble, with his sword belted at his side. Odd, that, seeing as he lost his sword a long time ago...

Ah well. It's a dream, it isn't _supposed _to make sense. At least, that's what he tells himself, whenever the dreams disconcert him.

He tells himself that a lot.

He watches scenes of his life fade past. His dragon's death, and his subsequent madness. (Contrary to popular belief, he does know he isn't fit to rule Alagaesia. He just does it anyway) Morzan, almost his son, scarred for life because of something Galbatorix did...

He can't stand it. He wants to wake up.

He has to--

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Right. (blinks) Yeah... 

Sorry about the delay. Review?

I'll try and get the next chapter up...sometime...


	3. Sonata

So, here I am again. With a detailed reply to some random flamer at the bottom.

Sorry about the delay... And the length...

Bleah.

Disclaimer: Would I be here if the Inheritance trilogy was mine?

Sonata:

_Unsworn_

I watched, sadly, as Eragon raised an unmarked blade and drew it gently along Nasuada's throat. Her eyes pleaded with me to come closer, to _help, _but I couldn't. The bindings had done their work.

My fists clenched, as my body fought the invisible bonds. "Nasuada!"

The scream came, unbidden, wrenched from my throat. The maniacal form of my brother paused, looked at me, and flashed a truly malevolent smile.

My heart stopped, and I reached for the familiar comfort of magic, drawing on it, trying to wake up—when I couldn't, I directed it at the bindings. I wasn't particularly surprised when it didn't work, and instead I was hit with all the power of that rage and magic.

That didn't stop it hurting like _hellfire, _though, and my knees buckled from the pain. The glee in the dream-Eragon's eyes was like a physical blow, and it was all I could do to stop myself breaking down. Because I've done this before, mostly, and it didn't do anything. Pride's becoming an issue, now, too. I wondered, almost absently, if it was like this for Morzan...

"It was, actually," _hellfire. _Note to self: Never say _anything _involving dead people in dreams... Because Morzan himself was standing beside Eragon, a paternal arm on the young man's shoulder.

_This _was new. "Er, hello, father..."

"Nice to see you, Murtagh. Sorry about invading your dreams, and all that, but it's rather difficult to get permission to visit from the unknown beyond... Besides possessing your dragon, but he tends to get snippy when I do that."

_What! _

Dream-Eragon was looking annoyed, too, because Morzan's arm had stopped him beheading my kind-of-almost-lover.

I find that I can talk, properly, without turning my throat into raw meat. "Okay, explain the dragon bit, and then you can embellish on the rest of it."

Okay, sorry it's so short and all, but I just wanted to post something. Blizzardstar2000 said it would probably be a good idea to do one chapter for each dream, rather than three in one, so here we go (and unfortunately I can't write a longer Murtagh chap).

Let me know what you think. Oh, and anonymous person 7879?

Get a backbone and actually flame under your penname or give me a reply. Plus, they're meant to be OOC, it's not like Paolini actually gave them personalities. And, about Murtagh joining the Varden, he's his own person. That's why we love him. He's not about to drop all his independence and fight for the Varden unless he has a damn good reason to.

Also, I never said any of them were evil. Read the fic before you judge it, please, because I don't think you did.

I'm sorry to everyone else who's reading this, but I figure I should address this. Especially since whoever it is hasn't given me a reply address.

Anyway, r 'n' r, please!


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